


Burn

by Imiaslavie



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Mutant Powers, Pre- Ludendorff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-28 06:20:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10076885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imiaslavie/pseuds/Imiaslavie
Summary: Trevor struggles to control himself in a world where people have Gifts and are hunted for that. Michael doesn't make it easier. Not one bit.





	

Trevor had been yearning for calm and stagnation since he was old enough to comprehend things around him. Around the gentle age of five, he realised that moving from home to home, from state to state was not normal, was not fun and was not meant to be happening.

He yearned for the endless string of mother’s boyfriends to stop. He yearned for the ability to call some place his real home. 

Trevor hated change.

He started hating it even more when he learned that the most drastic change had occurred just two years before he was born.

The death of Kennedy triggered off the most horrible and unfair law.

The Gifted ones became outlawed in America.

The Gifted ones, wonderful people with extraordinary abilities, blessed with talents that no mere human could replicate. Being super-fast, becoming invisible, being able to breathe under water – name anything, you would find it.

In the whole history, they were welcomed in the society. But give it to some dick with a Gift to kill a president, right? It didn’t even matter that he used a rifle to kill him, not his Gift. The assassination was used to push the law against the Gifted through.

Trevor was a Canadian. It shouldn’t have bothered him. But he didn’t stay in Canada, did he?

He was ten when his Gift manifested. One night he went to bed, and one morning he woke up to find out their small house was on fire. He felt so very hot, and whenever he would touch something, it would start to burn.

He managed to save his mother. He didn’t manage to save his brother.

No one came to investigate the fire, arsons weren’t a rare occurrence back then, especially in poor districts. So, they moved to the next state. And then the next. And next.

Trevor hated change.

***

He tried to make something of himself. The sky was a tempting thing, so he joined the Air Forces. Tests were hard, but he managed. And flying… just indescribable. Then this bitch gave him a big red light.

That was a first time he considered using his Gift on someone.

***

He experimented. He tried to make a toast by holding a piece of bread in his hand (it became totally inedible). He tried to warm up water in the bath (it evaporated). He tried to burn down a bush (well… it burned, no celestial beings appearings occurred). He made metal in his arms go red and glowing (but failed to just heat it up a little).

***

After six months he made some slightly warm milk for his ill mother by holding a glass in his hand for three seconds.

***

He had to learn to restrain his fits of rage, or his secret would be out.

When he managed to stick a hockey stick in some idiot’s ass without setting it on fire, he considered it a win.

***

He had a job to smuggle a cargo. One flare gun shot, one flight and one body thrown into a lake later, he gained a friend. Michael.

***

They robbed. They plundered. They had fun.

Then Trevor spent four months in prison for being in idiot. 

He missed Michael so damn much he considered melting prison bars and escaping.

He didn’t.

***

Trevor burned the girl he was fucking because he couldn’t control himself. He had to kill her, of course, otherwise she would spill the beans.

That’s how he learned his control wasn’t good enough.

***

It was a big problem because he really wanted to have sex with Michael.

***

About thirty girls and guys later, Trevor tried to kiss Michael.

Just one kiss was more intense than all the sex he had had, making him hot all over.

Michael asked if he had a fever.

After Trevor confirmed, Michael smiled, kissed him back and promised him a later.

***

Trevor started doing pyrogravures. He used his finger on the wood like a child would use his finger to paint with watercolour on the paper. Looked quite the same.

He repeated intricate patterns he found in books, trying to make his lines as thin as possible. He wasn’t an artist, but he was stubborn and he had a goal.

After he managed to burn down a line just two millimetres wide, he kissed Michael again.

***

‘Later’ was much later. No ‘real’ sex, though, just a quick jerking off session with countless kissing. Michael’s hands were very gentle. And Trevor realised he was in love.

***

Michael, apparently, realised no such thing. He was too busy being infatuated with a stripper.

***

Michael married. Trevor burned people alive. Michael had kids. Trevor burned some more.

***

Michael died. Trevor considered burning himself.

Turned out, fire could do him no damage.

***

Years passed.

Trevor yearned for a change.

***

Michael was alive.

Trevor touched walls and chairs and couches and carpets of O’Neils’ farm with precision, setting room by room on fire.

***

Apparently, Michael’s Gift was being a charmer.

How otherwise would you explain a need to kiss his stupid mouth shut?

***

Trevor tortured Kerimov. He wanted so hard to push his finger inside his mouth and burn gentle gums and tongue and insides of his cheeks. But he couldn’t, or everyone will know.

***

Michael said, “You drive me crazy”, and kissed Trevor.

Trevor considered rejecting him.

Trevor kissed back.

***

Michael wanted sex. Trevor’s trailer was full of little wooden desks with patterns and images burned into them.

“Why wouldn’t you just fuck me, T?” Michael asked, trailing a line of kisses down Trevor’s neck, them sitting on a dirty old couch. “I can’t come up with a reason no matter how hard I try.”

Trevor couldn’t come up with one too. There just wasn’t one. Besides the real one.

“I don’t think I could control myself,” Trevor said.

“I think you are doing wonderfully. You always have. You haven’t burned me once.”

Trevor froze. Michael laughed.

“Oh, you silly man. 'Course I know. I’ve known since the first months after I met you. You wanna know how?” Michael asked. He took Trevor’s right hand in his own and kissed the tip of the index finger. 

“Your fingers often smelt like burned wood. You had all this pyrogravures in your house but I never saw any kind of wood engraver. Nor do I see it now. Some of your works are quite beautiful, by the way. How did you manage to make lines so thin?”

Trevor melted under Michael’s kisses, melted listening to the gentle voice with a hint of mirth in it.

“I… I just have to make sure just the tiny spot on the tip of my finger is hot. Just this. I learned it.”

Michael hummed shortly, then whispered, “I trust you”, and caught Trevor’s lips with his.

Michael’s hands were gentle. Trevor realised he was still in love. And this time, he thought, maybe Michael was too.


End file.
